Mad
by TiaTodd
Summary: Captain/Hatter smut. Don't like slash, take your eyes elsewhere. Killian finds a very mad and lonely Jefferson in Wonderland, and just as expected, NOTHING goes as expected.


**BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING, I'm pretty sure this timeline is all jumbled. I just wanted to write this because this pairing is hawt.**

"You are completely _mad_," Killian spat with what little air he could summon from being pressed chest-first against the low wooden table.

Jefferson leaned forward, with one hand pushing Killian's wrists (well, wrist and hook) to his back, straining the man as far as he could to maintain his desperate whimpers. "And you love it," he laughed into his ear, biting it fiercely.

"ARGH!" Killian tossed his head back, throwing his shoulder in the hatter's general direction. "No, get off! I don't…"

Jefferson sighed as though bored, irritated, and drove a foot between both of Killian's, spreading his legs. In the same movement he reached around and grabbed the captain through his pants, smirking as Killian's knees buckled. "Yes you do, Jones. I'd call you pathetic for being such a slut, but who am I to call anyone pathetic, right?"

"What the hell do you want with me?"

"First, for you to shut up, I'm tired of your voice," replied the other impatiently, pushing down the pirate's shoulders more to restrict his breath. Killian wheezed and groaned, glaring up at the smirking man with pure venom in his eyes. "I don't know what I want, to tell the truth. Like you said, I'm completely mad."

Before Hook could gather enough breath to respond, he was being held down by his neck with one unfairly strong hand and disrobed with another, and as soon as his he could hear the fabric of his coat drop heavily to the floor his wrists were pinned once again, neck still not free. "Hhk…let—go-"

And to his surprise, the hatter released his neck, calloused fingers dragging down to his shoulder. "Give me another minute, and then tell me with a straight face that you want me to let go."

"What?"

The hands that held his own let go once again, leaving Killian with a bruising feeling and the freedom to run. But now he was simply too _curious_ to take that option. Perhaps this Wonderland was getting to him, as well. Slowly he stood straight, turning with just as much slowness and a confused crinkle of the brow. The hatter stood with relaxed eyes and smiling face, skilled fingers twined into each other patiently. He tipped his head to the side as if waiting for an answer to some unspoken question, and his lips fell into a half-smile as his gaze dropped to the captain's noticeable bulge. "You'll be glad you broke in, captain, though you won't find what you're looking for. I know I'm glad to see you. I've spent far too much time here, too long have I denied myself the touch of another, I never wanted to acknowledge this place as real." He shrugged his own coat off his shoulders, and rolled his ridiculously puffy sleeves to his elbows before reaching for the captain's hook. Killian let him take it, watched the hatter run a finger over its curve. "You're real, though, I don't mind you being real. You're far too grim for this place, you _have_ to be from my world."

On that word, Jefferson's body was wracked with silent laughter, ranging from simple, to mirthful, to nearly hysterical as he brought the hook to his jaw.

"What are you doing, man? Get a hold of your wit," Killian growled, reclaiming his arm with a sharp enough swipe to knick Jefferson on the jaw. It seemed to sober him up; the madman now stared through him, face grave. He could leave now, he could. Killian eyed the door.

But the instant he did that, he found himself pinned again, splintered wooden table cutting into the back of his thighs as the hatter held both his hands, once again, behind his back. Chest to chest, panting hard, Jefferson leaned close to Killian's face, pressing his own unshaven cheek to it. "You are real, aren't you. You feel so different from anything else in this _damned_ world. You feel…" He hissed as a warm drip of blood trickled down his own jawline. "You hurt me…"

"Do you expect an apology?" cried Hook indignantly, pulling with all his strength at the hatter's unfairly strong hands. "You're the one wh—" He stopped short as Jefferson did something curious. He stood on the tips of his toes and stretched out his neck. At the base of it was a puffy pink scar, a seam, like his neck had been welded to his body. "What is that?"

"I was decapitated." Jefferson's voice shook. "My head came clean off."

"But that's…"

"Impossible. Unreal." The words were spoken bitterly as the hatter's eyes met the captain's. "But you're not. You're very possible. You're very real." He switched both of Killian's wrists to one hand and used the other to thumb away the blood, taking a very little of it onto his tongue. His eyes fairly lit up and he pressed his thumb to Killian's protesting lips.

"No, stop, I don't want—mfh," and the warm, metallic taste met his tongue, shocking his senses. Apparently he liked the taste, he liked it a lot.

In the confused stupor of Killian discovering some sort of fetish he never knew he had, he hadn't noticed the hatter sinking down to his knees before him, hadn't noticed the exploring hands on his chest and torso and hips, didn't snap back to life until his trousers were around his knees. "Hey!"

Jefferson wiped another drop of blood from the cut, licking it languidly from his thumb and closing his eyes to savor it. Hook's pulse raced, and to his embarrassment his excitement was quite visible; however, the hatter seemed to take no notice, and instead produced a thick needle from somewhere on the floor. Before the captain could ask, he hissed in pain, kept from kicking only from the grip of the hatter's strong hand.

"What was that for?" he seethed.

"Still trying to believe it," was Jefferson's nonchalant answer as his tongue pressed flat against a fresh cut on Killian's inner thigh. The cut stung and the captain hissed, grabbing tightly to Jefferson's hair to try to pull him away, but before he did the warmth of the man's tongue got to him. He suppressed a shudder, easing his grip. He watched a pair of curious blue eyes settle on the sight of his now-throbbing cock, _very_ embarrassed. The hatter quirked an eyebrow. "Suppose I should help you with that."

"No no, what are you g—ohhh…"

Never all at once but one by one the captain's erection was teased by lips, teeth, and tongue, and he let his head tip back as his hand pressed to the back of the other man's head. His fingers pulled the hair and his legs spread shamelessly, his mouth gaped as Jefferson did things to him which none of the numerous women he'd taken to bed had ever done. He was curious to know how the madman came up with all this. Perhaps his creativity. Creativity is hot.

And of course he couldn't think right by this point, he could only feel; feel waves of wonderful sensation and feel embarrassment for being so under another person's control. Blame Wonderland.

Again his thoughts derailed as the man's warm mouth left him, and he looked down and disappointment at those full pink lips no longer pleasuring him.

"You can leave now," he offered, panting slightly, "or we can continue _my_ way."

At first this seemed like a stupid set of options; of course Killian wanted to continue! He nearly smacked the hatter for even suggesting to stop, but then, he was curious. "What is your way?"

A smile akin to that of the horrendous cat Hook had encountered earlier spread upon those soft lips. "You'll like it, you whore."

Damn his insatiable curiosity. Because although he could probably guess that what was about to happen wouldn't work in his favor, he stayed put as the hatter rose back up to his feet.

Now he was pinned over the surface of the table again, this time with his back to it, legs bending uncomfortably backwards over the edge. With a few skilled flicks of the wrist, Jefferson rendered the man now completely naked, save his jewelry. Now Killian was concerned.

"What are—"

His lips were bitten, sharply, and he grunted a no, and then his hook was placed against the hatter's cheek by said hatter's own hand. Taking this as a cue, though confused, he dug the tip shallowly into Jefferson's cheek, receiving a gratified hiss. The injured man's body moved awkwardly and there was a rustling of fabric, but Killian was entirely fixated, like a child, on the blood dripping from the cut he had just inflicted. On complete impulse he lunged upward and tongued the bleeding cheek, nearly moaning at the taste. And then that moment was almost completely ruined.

"_What_ are you doing? Not there!"

The hatter was already inside him, and had the forethought to take the captain's hook and pin it to the table above his head. He bit his lip, waiting only short moments before he began to thrust steadily into the man below him.

Hook squirmed, almost succeeding this time in tearing his hands from Jefferson's vice-like grasp. Almost. This was terrible, this was awful, this was a bad idea and Killian did not like it one b—"AH!"

This time, he actually did manage to break from Jefferson's hold, twining his fingers into his hair and pulling hard, _so_ confused by this brand new, intense wave of pleasure. He squeezed the curve of his hook against the newest cut, shoving Jefferson's bleeding face down to his level to lap up the blood. Whatever Jefferson had done the last time to make him feel so good, he did it again, and that combined with the coppery taste and crimson tinge of the blood nearly drove the captain to the edge.

The hatter was panting hard now, grunting with his elbows planted at either side of the captain's face as he rocked hard into him, grinding and gyrating his hips. With a particularly desperate groan, he pressed his bleeding cheek to the captain's unshaved face, which sent shivers down his neck and his spine. Killian stretched out his tongue to lick up the smeared blood right as Jefferson struck that same wonderful spot, hips jerking to hit it again almost immediately, and he climaxed, moaning loudly in the ear of the hatter who finished shortly after.

"Real…enough…for you, augh…lunatic?"


End file.
